2014.03.28 - Library Time
It is a relatively bright day in Gotham. Which means that it's mostly cloudy and overcast. But the temperature is calm and nice, and inside the library is quiet ad calm in the manner of all libraries. Sitting on the floor in a side lobby, walls holding some low end local art and photography, James has set the childish picture book to teh side to rub at his temples, fending off a headache from frustration. Fern isn't a big fan of Gotham, with it's seemingly perpetual gloom, but Hammer has a meeting in the city and, while it's of a nature that he's still shielding the young redhead from, she's nearby like always. As the businessmen meet up the street, she's wandered down to said library, to while away the time in the relative safety of books. She's never been here before, so is roaming aimlessly, in no hurry, stepping lightly to preserve the sanctity of the library's quiet, her bag slung across her slight form, bumping against her hip as she moves. Strolling into the side lobby, her eyes flicker around, taking in the pieces on the wall, sliding over the man on the floor, back to the walls, and she whispers softly to herself, "Even the art is... gloomy." James glances up at the sound of the voice, out of no where. Blue eyes on Fern, James tries to very subtly tuck the children's book under the tote bag he has with him where it would be hidden. He doesn't offer anything, but at least Fern has his attention? For a moment, Fern studies a black and white photograph in it's frame, squinting a bit as she tries to imagine it in bright, cheerful colors. As she turns, her eyes fall back to James, smile blooming automatically. "Morning," she offers by way of greeting, voice low but holding a friendly lilt. "Nice day to come to the library." At least it's a little less gloomy than being outside. "Good morning," James replies. His voice is a hair's breath above a murmur; gentle, with a pleasing tenor note. With the book mostly concealed, James nods and pulls his long legs in so he's sitting more or less lotus style. Blonde hair flops into his eyes. "I try to come by everyday," he comments, sensing that Fern's comment need a reply. Fern's gaze lifts and travels again, aimlessly really, as she says, "I love libraries. The smell of books. The quiet. All the different worlds you can go just by coming inside." As she speaks her eyes return once more, lingering on the stranger. There's a gentleness to her words that speaks of her love of reading. While many people wouldn't have said hello in the first place, much less stopped to actually converse, Fern seems disinclined to hurry off. "It's just not the same, reading things on a tablet or computer." James watches Fern speak about reading, her love for it. He can't help but be drawn by it, and a faint smile starts to tug at the corners of his lips. And then she says something in explicable, and a frown appears. He knows what a computer is. They have a room full of them. He doesn't understand... or...can't remember how to use one, so he's shied away from it. Brought up in normal conversation, however, has James trying to find anything in his limited memory to match it to. James is drawing a blank, so... He inhales to speak, then purses his lips to mask how he bits at the inside of his lower lip, and is silent. The silence might put some off, but Fern is patient, and this week alone she's been reminded more than once that some people have far less to say than she does. She glances around, then moves to sit next to James on the floor, pulling her bag into her lap. The flap is flipped open, and she dives inside for a moment, drawing out a small packet. It crinkles softly as her fingers tug it open, and then it's offered out. "Cookie?" Lorna Doones, to be exact, the corner of a golden shortbread square peeking out. This patient, open personality in front of him, makes James blink a moment, and when the cookie is offered he reaches out slowly to take one. He looks at the food item, murmuring a soft thank you that is full of question. "I'm sorry if this is odd but, do you know me?" James asks softly, blue eyes almost hopeful mostly guarded. Well, it is something of an odd question, but Fern's no stranger to odd. She pauses, her eyes sharpening as she really looks at her library companion, giving very real consideration to the question. Nothing about him tells of the reality, except for maybe the earnest look in his eyes, and after a moment her lips quirk sideways, rather apologetically, head shaking with a bare movement. "I don't think so," she answers. She's good at remembering names and faces, but there's something that keeps her from being more positively negative. Maybe that almost hope. There's a crinkle again as she extracts a cookie for herself. "I'm Fern." "James," says the man, eyes flicking down to the cookie, shoulders slumping a bit. Dashed hope, yet he presses on by bringing the morsel to his mouth and taking a bite of it. He glances here and there, not sure what sort of conversation to make with this complete stranger. So much better than that girl at the bar, who was hurt when he couldn't remember who she was, but then walked away before he could get anything further. He looks back to Fern, studying her briefly so he'll have another friendly face in his brief memories. "It's... nice to meet you." There! He did it! The face becomes even friendlier again as Fern's bright smile returns with the introduction. "It's nice to meet you too, James." She takes a bite from her own cookie, looking around again, swallowing before she asks casually, "Are you from Gotham? I don't really come here very often." Again, James has that uncomfortable tension at the question. He rolls a shoulder. "I... suppose so?" He offers back, relaxing a bit under the bright smiles. That brings curiosity, of course, and it's easy to see on Fern's face although her tone stays casual. "Suppose so?" Maybe there's been an influx of people from other times? She did meet someone earlier in the week who wasn't from here, said he was from the past. The package is offered again, two cookies left in the four-pack. James seems about to decline the cookie, but then reaches out to take it. He goes into his tote bag to get a fast food napkin which he uses to wrap the second cookie up to save for later. Has he missed meals or...? "I lost my memories. The first thing I remember clearly is waking up in a Gotham alley. So, if I came here from somewhere else, I don't know it," he as he busies himself with wrapping the second cookie carefully. Red brows lift above blue eyes that show both concern and consternation, and Fern turns slightly, her attention fully on James. "Oh gosh, that's awful. You don't remember anything at all? Have you gone to the police? Maybe someone is looking for you," she offers helpfully. There's a soft chuckle and another bite of cookie is taken. They are small bites. Bite of tasting a new food and not really sure about it yet. "We have some friends we've made looking into it. There's been... very little information so far," he replies softly, wry humor twisting his lips. "We?" is the obvious question from Fern, "So you aren't alone?" It's a mixture of relief, because it would suck to be alone and have no idea of who you are, and the same concern, because it still sucks to not know who you are with someone who doesn't know who they are either. But at least it's not alone. "Sorry. My sister," James says, taking another bite before looking at the cookie again, turning it over in his fingertips to study it. "What are these called?" he asks now, looking from the cookie to Fern. Fern tilts the package so James can see the name Lorna Doone, not knowing he can't read it, and says, "They're shortbread. They remind me of home, my mom used to make shortbread for us. Lorna Doones aren't exactly the same, but close enough." Her smile is back, softer, and she leans back against the wall. "She doesn't remember who she is either? You've found somewhere to stay though?" James looks at the package, frowning in confusion and frustration at the incomprehensible symbols. "But... what are they called?" James repeats, looking up from the package to Fern. "And yes, we have a place." Fern looks at the little package... she's not covering the name with her fingers... and then it dawns on her. "They're called Lorna Doone cookies. I'm not sure why they're named after a woman, I should look that up sometime." Her words give no indication of her summation that James can't read, but her eyes fall to see the edge of the book he'd slid beneath his pack. She can't see the title, but it's thin, like a children's book. "Good, I'm glad you have somewhere to stay at least. It's not been a good winter for being out in the weather." James is quick to try to find where those words are found on the package, but he fails, and so just accepts the name with a nod and another small bite of cookie. "Is it still winter?" "Well," Fern says slowly, drawing it out with soft humor, "It's technically spring, but it's still acting a lot like winter. I can't wait for it to warm up, and the flowers to start blooming." Her attention turns back to her bag, hand fishing inside again, and she pulls out another small packet. "These are Oreo cookies, they're really good. Take them for your sister." The blue packet is offered out to James. These package he seems to recognize, and he smiles. "Thank you. She's not a fan of oreos, but we have a friend who really likes them, if that's okay with you?" he asks without reaching for them just yet. The cookies are held steadily, and Fern nods, "Sure. Share and share alike. Maybe she can trade them for something she likes better." Thus exhausting her supply of squirreled away foods, she flips her bag closed again. Given permission, James reaches out for the cookies and puts them with the wrapped shortbread cookie he was given. "Maybe," he says on a slight singsong. And he falls silent, eating his last bite of cookie. Fern nods in acknowledgement, letting the silence hold for a moment or two, before she ventures, "It sounds like you've met some nice people though, if they're trying to help you figure out what you've forgotten. You don't remember anything at all?" "We have been very fortunate, yes," James comments on a faint, sad sort of smile. He seems to ponder a bit, then rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "Nothing firm, nothing we can name. Emotions, feelings, sensations. A song or a smell triggers... emotion. And with that reactions and... sometimes it's a good thing, sometimes, not so much. We are... handling hte best we can." Again there's a nod, and Fern raises a hand absently to push a fallen strand of red hair out of her eyes. "I wish I could do something to help." The brightness is gone from her voice, replaced by a pensive note. But she's go no powers to see into their heads for a shred of identity, and has no contacts that would be helpful to speak of. Especially not when there are already people helping them, and more would likely just muddy the waters. But that sad smile of his tugs at her. Seeing the pensive note enter her demeanor bothers James. He doesn't know why, but it does. Cheeks flushing a bit, brows pulling up and together, James tilts his head down and away, embarrassed even as he reaches down to slide the tote bag off the children's book. "Could you teach me how to read?" he asks, voice small, fragile. The question confirms what Fern had suspected, and her face softens out of it's concerned pinch again. "I can," she says gently, the effect asking the question has on James apparent. So she's never taught anyone to read before, so what. She's patient and persistent, and that's gotta be a good start. Leaning, Fern looks to the book. "Do you know the letters when you see them?" That's a starting point, at least, to see where they stand. James shakes his head, lifting the Big Book of Letters and offering it over. "They look familiar, but... Nothing." Fern takes the book from James, pulling the strap of her bag off over her head, setting that aside. "I guess that's a good place to start then." She scoots over an inch or two, just enough so they can share the book between them. "The alphabet is the building blocks of reading. First we get the letters in your head, then we can start putting them together." James nods to this, clearly understanding the purpose, the reason, but... "A retired teacher was trying to help a few days ago? She was nice but... it didn't go well. Mostly because I was very distracted." Opening the book and balancing it on her knee, Fern looks at James curiously, head tilting much like a puppy. "Distracted? By what? There aren't a lot of distractions in a library," she adds with a bare laugh. "My sister. She dropped me off that morning, but we didn't have a way to stay in contact and I kept worrying if she was okay," James replies, shifting up so he can look at the book easily and reach into his pocket for a red cell phone, WayneTech, very fancy. "But ...one of our friends, Tim?, he's helped us and got us some phones so we can call each other. It make things easier." This information gets a warm smile from Fern. "You're a good brother, worrying about her. I have brothers. I miss them a lot sometimes," she admits, "But I never really have to worry about them much. I know they worry about me sometimes, though." Her attention drops, and she flips to the first page of the book. "So, lets start at the beginning." The cheeriness is back in her voice, because no one learns well when they're glum. "This is an A. It's got some different ways it can sound. Like the ah, in cat or hat. Or it can sound just like it's name, in save and wave." James smiles back, feeling himself relaxing a bit under Fern's cheerful nature and understanding of that fiercely protective need he has when thinking of Krys. Turning his gaze to the book, James learns with eagerness, pressing forward with dedicated abandon. Letter after letter, word after word, sound after sound. James, clearly, is not an idiot, but it's also very clear that he's not very good at learning on his own. When the letters are done, he gets his phone, opens it, then grins lightly. "Can you show me which sends a letter-message to Krys?" he asks, sensing that this item can be a tool to getting him using these odd symbols faster. In little more than a whisper, Fern gets them all the way from buh to zzzzzz, trying to make it fun and not a chore. When the phone is produced she grins broadly, leaning lightly against his arm as she looks at the little device in his hand. "I think... yeah, if you push this here, see how all the little letters come up? They're kinda small for your fingers, but you'll be texting your sister in no time. Want me to help you send one now?" There's a faint smell of peaches around her, lingering from her shampoo. Floral. Sweet. James does as any young man would, and inhales faintly as Fern leans warmly against his arm. His response is delayed. "Wha? Oh, ah. yes, please." He starts to hand over the device then stops, takes a deep breath, licks his lips nervously, then asks, "What do I press?" If Fern were a superhero, she would be Oblivious Girl, and for good reason. She's still studying the phone in the pause, then reaches, not taking it from him, but pointing. "Ok, this should pull up your contacts, people you have stored in your phone. So first we find your sister's name, then push the little button to send her a message." Thankfully, contacts were programmed and James smiles brightly at the face of a blonde woman. "That's her," he says, touching at the on screen items fern directs him to. And with help, it taps out: 'Hello. I am happy. Are you safe and happy?' Fern can't help but smile at the message, it's sweet and concerned. And for a moment, she misses her own brothers very strongly. But she pushes that aside, with a mental note to text them each later, and nods, pointing again. "Now that one will send it. If her phone is on, she'll probably answer within a couple minutes." She leans back again, no longer pressing lightly to James' arm, and notes, "She's very pretty. Looks must run in your family, so that's one thing you know." It's not said in a flirty tone, but more as stating a matter of obvious fact. James stares at the phone, eyes going over the sent message as he recites what each word means. Over and over, memorizing the feel of sound and look of letters. "Hmm? what? Oh. Yes. She is. Thank you," James says. What did Fern even ask? Settling back against the wall again, Fern waits to see if Krys will answer right away, the gears in her head churning for a moment. Finally she asks, "Where are you two staying? I can keep helping you learn to read, but I need to know where to find you. And if you want my number, we can put it into your phone." "At Empire Arms. It's not far from here, actually," says James amiably, trying to hide the anxiety of waiting for a response from the phone. "But sure. Show me how to to do that?" This is so easy now, with this stranger, warm and friendly, to ask show me how than it has ever been. "Yep," Fern chirps simply. She leans again, walking James through inputting her info, giving her cell phone number, work number, her work email, work address and home address, so there will be more than one avenue for them to be in touch. "Now, lets send me a text message, and then I'll have your number to save in my phone." She pulls her bag back over, fishing out her phone. James smiles, fumbling through what Fern asks him to do. "Gods. I'm never going to remember all this," he mumbles with a soft chuckle, nodding to Fern as he waits for her to get out her pho- CHRIP chirp! James looks around for the bird while the screen on his phone lights up. Fern twists back around excitedly, then giggles when she sees James looking around. "That's the message back from your sister! Here, just hit this... then this... there it is!" She'll help him through reading it, sounding things out, not doing it for him but making it another lesson in reading. "Oh." James says, cheeks darkening in embarrassment. His ignorance caused her to giggle, and while it wasn't cruelly done... He smiles tightly as he taps what Fern tells him to tap and then works to read the message. It's painful, hearing him stumble, and fall, and gets things completely wrong. But he pushes on, until her reads the message out loud, and then says it again as if trying to understand the meaning: 'I'm both. Seems I can use a sword...' "She can.. use a sword?" James is clearly thinking that one through. "Maybe... something she remembered," he murmurs and bites his lip as he peers at the phone. He looks up to Fern, brows pulled tight. "How do I-?" The blush doesn't escape Fern's notice, and she makes a mental memo to remember that James has been through a lot, obviously, and requires extra kindness. The text message does raise her brows again, though. "They say that something like that is a lot of muscle memory. So maybe her body remembers things her brain doesn't. I'll bet yours does too, and you'll keep finding things that click together." She helps him answer the text, gets his information into her phone, and promises to be in touch to help him with his reading more. Then she's finally off, called back by her boss, hurrying to catch back up with a last wave and a smile. Category:Log